The feeling I get around you is similar to the dropping of my body at 1:08 am when I'm trying to rest my constant headaches and cycles of things I wish I would've said. No one enjoys worries that cloud over their thoughts and you're my precipitation. Each drop trickles down the crevices of my brain and travels down I-90IWishIWould'veNeverLetYouInTheWayIDid and exits out my eyes burdened with the drops, whether it's salted water or paralysis. But just like the weather these memories or maybe lost hopes are unpredictable, but somehow remain constant like the average climate that's recorded each year. But if you were to record the years I've walked upon this planet, my climate dropped to the coldest since decades in 2014.
Funny how everything about me dropped, when you dropped me.